Untitled Part I: Earth
by IanLevitt
Summary: Based off of the Spock and Uhura breakup clip from Star Trek Beyond. What happens when Nyota takes a break from space due to something other than Spock? Completely AU.
1. I

**So, this is going to be one of those stories where I just write what comes out with very little planning. Because when I plan things, it takes forever for me to write. I feel confined to my thoughts. That considered, I hope you enjoy this story!**

* * *

Her PADD had not quit buzzing since earlier that afternoon.

She'd always known that she would answer, eventually, but she held out as long as she could.

She wasn't scared or nervous or anything of that caliber.

After all, it wasn't like the one person she'd been trying to avoid was the one trying to get into contact with her. She would have expected differently from anyone else—anyone who wasn't preoccupied with logic, that is, which happened to be the case for Nyota's "boss," Jim Kirk.

This time would make his 9th time attempting to get in touch with her. When she was on duty, she would not hesitate to answer him; alas, she wouldn't be on duty again for a very long time, and she knew that he was aware of that and, thus, whatever he wanted to talk to her about wasn't important. Work-wise, at least.

Nyota had a very good idea of what he'd say, what he'd ask, if she answered him, and she wanted to avoid it at all costs. But that wasn't happening.

Jim Kirk wasn't going to let her off that easily.

Resigned, Nyota sat up on her sofa and took her PADD off of the coffee table in front of her. She stared at Jim's photograph on the screen, sighed heavily, and then swiped to answer his call.

His picture hadn't even fully materialized before he started tossing questions her way. "Where the hell are you, Uhura?"

She sighed. "I think we both know that I'm not obligated to tell you that."

"Right. Because after the repairs to the _Enterprise_ were finished, everyone came back to the ship _but you_. What the hell is that?" Jim shut his eyes and rested his cheek in his upturned palm. "Are you okay?"

He was beat. It was written all over his reddened face.

Nyota figured that she didn't look much better. She was all but disgracing her leather sofa, what with the tacky years-old shirt and pajama pants she'd grabbed from her hamper that morning. Her hair was a mess, a mess she'd "dealt" with by pulling it into a very messy ponytail. And she was sad. She was so sad that her sarcasm didn't even sound right.

"I'm fine, Jim," she said, earnestly. Softly.

He opened his eyes, then. "You don't get months-long leave for nothing. Behind my back, no less," he pointed out, his tone bordering on accusatory.

That brought the smallest of grins to her face. "It's a good reason, Jim. Not a bad one."

He rolled his eyes. "This doesn't have anything to do with Spock, right? Because you could've gotten over him here. With me." And there was his wolfish smile, diluted somewhat by his exhaustion but there no less.

Nyota groaned inwardly. Gossip traveled around the ship quickly, even when they weren't physically on the ship. Usually, it was more impressive to her than irksome, from a communications perspective. This time, communications considered, it was definitely irksome. "You heard about that? _Already?_ "f

"It's been two days. I'd say it was one of the better kept secrets."

"I'm not in the mood to argue with that logic."

"I bet. Hey, speaking of _logic_ —."

"Are you really going to do this right now?"

"As a matter of fact, I am." Jim swiveled around his chair and assured that the coast was clear before he faced the screen again. He lowered his voice. "He's miserable without you. You know, if that helps."

"Hm." Nyota tilted her head to the side in mock thought. "It'd be a very real possibility, Jim. If he were capable of being miserable, or being _anything_ , for that matter." Her lips were set into a taut line. She was behaving unfairly, she was well aware, but she felt that she had the right to. And, even if that wasn't the case, it made her feel better.

"Ouch." Jim winced. "As soon as you come back, you're telling me what he did. I hope you know that."

"No. When I come back, I'm going to be doing my job. Which you should be doing right about now."

"I've never heard of a guy getting such a hard time for checking in on someone before he goes to sleep. I care about you, you know? I'm very loving." He grinned, boyishly. She had a feeling this was the most normal he'd been all day. Going out there, to where no man had ever gone before, had the tendency to change a person. Nyota wouldn't dare admit it, but she enjoyed Jim just the way he was.

She rested her head on her fist and granted him another gentle smile. "Get some rest, Captain. I'll see you—."

"Soon?" He sounded a bit hopeful. It was a personal thing as much as it was professional, she knew. Jim could do just fine without her. He could do just fine without nearly anyone.

"Eventually."

"Eventually." Jim mulled over the word for a bit.

Nyota yawned and watched him, like she had nothing better to do—she didn't.

Finally, he relented. "I can live with that."

* * *

If there was one thing that Bones absolutely hated, besides stupid people, it was interruptions.

People were always budding their way into his dinner conversations to ask basic medical questions; barging into Med Bay with basic injuries when he hid there to eat his lunch alone; and knocking on the door to his quarters before breakfast to tell him that another Medical Officer had royally screwed up, _again_.

Frankly, he was sick of it. He had half a mind to go on extended leave himself.

Needless to say, the knock on his door as he was getting ready for bed didn't help the situation.

Nor did the fact that the person behind the door was none other than Jim Kirk.

Bones tossed up his hands in irritation and stormed further into his quarters, not stopping to invite Kirk in. "What is it now? We just got back here. How many times can Ensign Lee fracture his pinkie finger?" If he'd stopped grabbing parts of his uniform and ranting, he would've heard Jim laughing into his fist. "If I'm going to be the only Medical expert worth a dime around here, I'm going to need to be paid like it."

He'd slipped on his shoes and started to, rather illogically, some might think, slip out of his pajama pants when Jim all but shouted, "Whoa whoa whoa! Hold your horses there, buddy. No one's dying."

Bones wrinkled his nose. Then, unceremoniously, he threw his clothes on his bed. "Good. Now, get out."

"I have something to ask you!"

"What could you possibly have to ask me that can't wait until morning?"

Jim pursed his lips, and his gaze flickered downward, almost meekly, to his feet. "It's about Uhura."

Bones rolled his eyes. "Look. I'm not telling you anything."

"Well, you don't need to." Jim said, defensively. He crossed his arms against his chest. "She already did. I only came here to find out about how this is going to affect her work. I don't want to have to let her go, but…" He trailed off.

Maybe it was the fatigue, but Bones was a little more disgusted by Jim's insinuations than was usual. "You'd fire a woman for being a mother? Talk about sexist. And here I thought we were in the 23rd century."

Jim's face lit up. He was beaming. He had an extremely cocky aura about him, one that was much more obnoxious than Bones could recall ever seeing.

And that was when Bones knew.

" _Shit!_ " That was when he knew that he'd violated the whole confidentiality thing since his first day on the job. Jim Kirk would ruin him.

"She's pregnant?" Jim whispered, excitedly.

Bones grit his teeth. "I'm not saying another word. And if that green-blooded hobgoblin hears a word of this, Jim, I _swear_ —."

"You mean to tell me he doesn't know?"

"I don't _mean_ to tell you anything else. Do us both a favor and forget this ever happened."

"It's going to be tough." Jim shook his head. His expression was one of disbelief.

Bones narrowed his eyes.

"But I'm going to try," Jim finished, lamely.

"Beautiful. Goodbye."

* * *

Kamau Uhura hadn't seen his sister in years. Since she'd gone off to become a legend at Starfleet Academy, to be precise.

Kamau, like the rest of the Uhuras, knew very well that Nyota was out changing the universe. Still, that didn't make them miss her any less.

When Nyota contacted her father and told him that she was coming home and that she was pregnant, the former outweighed the latter, and the entire family set to work getting the Uhura household in perfect shape to receive Nyota and her new life.

They all had jobs to do.

M'Umbha was going to prepare foolproof guides and activities for her newly pregnant daughter; Alhamisi was to prepare a bedroom for his future grandchild; Makena was to acquire all of Nyota's favorite foods; and Kamau was to pick her up and bring her home upon arrival.

She was running late. Kamau knew this because he kept looking at the time. Nyota was never late, but, then again, Kamau supposed that the pregnancy hormones had to screw her up somehow.

Sooner or later, he spotted her in a crowd of travellers. Two large suitcases were dangling from either of her shoulders. Kamau took them from her as soon as she reached him, inadvertently missing her outstretched arms.

"Are you insane, Nyota?"

"I'm pregnant, Kamau. Not elderly."

"You're young, you're pregnant, you're beautiful." Kamau stuck her bags in the back seat of his car. He turned back to face her and grinned. "How am I doing with the hormones?"

"Mediocre, at best. But I love you."

"Yeah, yeah." Kamau opened his arms, and Nyota gracefully stepped into them.

He squeezed her as tight as he could without hurting her. She took the liberty of squeezing him back.

Just for those few moments they stood there like that, all was right with the world.

"I'm so happy you're home," murmured Kamau, into her hair.

Nyota chuckled against his chest. "Me too."

* * *

 **There's going to be a few chapters to this. I don't know if it's going to be vital to read this to understand the rest of the story just yet. What I do know is that this part is going to have very little to no Spuhura interaction (there might be flashbacks). Part I is largely about Uhura and her child(ren). There's going to be a few new characters, and readers can expect to see some early snapshots of Uhura's life with her child.**

 **Can anyone help me brush up on missions in ST? I always thought they were supposed to last a certain amount of time. If you know that time, leave a comment and I'll fix it in the story!**

 **We all know that there has to be a somewhat reasonable…reason… for Uhura to hide a child from Spock. With that, I'm gonna leave your minds a-whirring.**


	2. II

**Hey! I'm really excited about all the good feedback I received on chapter one! Thanks to everyone who liked/read/commented/favorited/followed. :)**

 **Thank you to the first commenter for clearing up that thing about the 14-month gestation period. I'm pretty sure I'd forgotten about that!**

 **I would also like to thank lyssander for clearing up my question about mission length!**

 **-Since I wrote the above A/N, I've received more lovely reviews and I plan to reply to them all individually! I'm glad that people seem interested in this story. I know my updates take forever, but it's only because I don't want to write just anything. I want everything to keep the story going for you guys.**

* * *

No one _ever_ wanted to come to Sickbay for their check-up. Leonard was accustomed to having to chase the crew members down when the time came—sometimes in the literal sense. No matter their age, no matter their species, _crew members just didn't like check-ups._

Needless to say, it struck him as odd when Commander Spock showed up to Sickbay as scheduled. Admittedly, the Commander handled his appointments better than most—he always showed up on the day he was due. Still, Bones normally didn't expect him until after he'd finished his shift, meditated, _and_ eaten his dinner.

"You're here," Bones deadpanned. He arched his brows in utter bemusement as Spock moved to stand before him.

Spock tilted his head, in what Leonard identified as inquisitiveness, and replied, "It would appear so, Doctor."

"Right." Leonard shrugged—it wasn't his business, and he didn't want to _make it_ his business. He gestured wordlessly to the sea of biobeds before them. "Pick your favorite."

They were finished in fifteen minutes. No words were shared between them, besides Leonard's check-up script, but that wasn't necessarily outlandish. The thoughtful look on the Commander's face throughout the entire ordeal, however, was a completely different story.

Spock rose from the biobed and headed back in the direction from which he'd come. Bones picked up what instruments remained on the bed and turned around. Just as quickly as he'd done so, he stepped back.

The Commander hadn't left. He was standing there, in the doorway, silent, staring, and stoic. Honestly, it made Leonard more than a little uncomfortable. The two men looked at each other for a very, very long time.

Until Spock's leveled voice cut through the silence, like a blade.

"Doctor. It has come to my attention that Lieutenant Uhura recently took an extended period of leave. As I am aware of the principle of doctor-patient confidentiality, I will only ask you whether or not you are knowledgeable of her whereabouts."

 **Doctor-patient confidentiality**. Hell, Leonard couldn't even tell Spock that Nyota was perfectly fine (last he'd checked, at least). Lying to him about her whereabouts wasn't high on Leonard's List of Wants and Needs. It was a good thing that he really had no idea where she'd gone, then.

"No," Bones said, and, despite the fact that his answer was honest, he still felt a need to duck his head and study his instruments, until Spock quietly thanked him and left Sickbay.

Leonard breathed a sigh of relief and, finally, he looked up. An ensign had entered. Bones had no idea what the kid had seen—he didn't _care_.

"Come on," Leonard grumbled. He headed over to the sink to rinse out his tools. As the water ran down his wrists, his forearms, Bones couldn't help but let his mind wander to Spock, and Spock's puppy dog expression, and Spock's _baby_ —not that Nyota had ever indicated who the father of her unborn child was.

Leonard didn't know what he'd been thinking, taking on the role of her secret keeper. He wouldn't betray her, of course, principles considered or not, but the weight of the promise he'd made to her was just now flattening his broadened shoulders.

He needed a _drink_.

* * *

Nyota had never been this quiet.

Even as a toddler, Nyota had always been rambling off about something or another—at least, that's how Kamau remembered it. And, while he could be a little biased—considering how she was seven years younger than him, and his sister, and, in his mind, she was _always_ rambling—he knew that he wasn't wrong on this one.

Nyota was downtrodden. Distressed. Upset.

Since she'd returned home five weeks ago, she'd been eating all of her meals appropriately, taking care of her body, keeping busy. But, throughout all this, she'd been almost completely and utterly silent.

Kamau had held off on asking about it for as long as he could—there was every chance that she was just in one of her moods, which, admittedly, occurred every once in a blue moon and was highly unlikely. Still, he counted on the impossible. Until the Uhura family's annual summer bash rolled around and Nyota passed on Aunt Akeela's sweet potato pie. Nobody **ever** said no to Akeela's sweet potato pie.

So, the next day, after he'd taken care of his hangover, Kamau made his way to the den, where Nyota had taken a liking to holing herself up. She would listen to music there, she would do work there, she would practice her languages there, and, once or twice a week, she'd opt to take her meals there.

Today, she was reading.

From the novel's spine, Kamau knew that she happened to be reading _An Analysis on the Five Stages of Grief_. She was rather engrossed in the book, too, because she didn't acknowledge his presence until he cleared his throat, loudly.

Startled, Nyota all but jumped into an upright position on the settee she'd been occupying. When her eyes rested on Kamau's face, and a glimmer of recognition glazed over her gentle features, she shot him a look.

"You scared me," she muttered. She shut the book in her lap and watched him, expectantly. He didn't say a word. She creased her brows. "Hello? Earth to Kamau? _Kila kitu nzuri_?"

Kamau rolled his eyes and maneuvered his way to her side. "Oh, I'm fine. It's you who has the problem, _dada_."

Nyota turned away from him. "What are you talking about, Kamau?" There was guilt in her tone.

"Only the fact that you are _not_ talking, Ny."

"I thought my talking annoyed you."

"It did. Still does. But that never shut you up before." She looked so small when he was standing, he noticed. And, right then, she just looked small in general, somehow smaller than she'd been all those years ago, when they were running in fields together and they could actually manage to frighten one another with ghost stories.

If he had to compare it to anything, Kamau thought, she was as small as she'd been when their Uncle Heshima died. He didn't die like a "normal" person; as his sister, Nyota and Kamau's mother, liked to say, he died as he'd lived: the center of attention. And he'd done it in the Uhura family room, right before the dinner celebrating his returning home. One moment, Heshima had been telling Kamau about his colleagues in the Xenolinguistics Department at Starfleet Academy; the next, Heshima was face-down on the rug before the fireplace, and his heart had stopped. What happened next was very much a blur. In a state of shock, Kamau watched as family members moved left and right, to and fro, crying, screaming, fretting over Heshima's body.

Through all of the commotion, Kamau saw Nyota huddled in the corner of the coffee table, her eyes never leaving the place where Heshima's body lay, even when it did; and he saw her white-stricken face, the liquid streaming, _pouring_ , down her cheeks. He'd scared her plenty times by then, when she was seven and he was fifteen, but never had he seen her so helpless and tiny. And so he'd sprang into action and grabbed her, took her away from the grown folks who weren't paying her any mind and who were far too distracted to realize what they were allowing a child to be exposed to. He'd taken her upstairs—Makena, too, once Kamau found her outside with their cousins—and he'd assumed the responsibility of keeping his sisters and his cousins (excluding Heshima's four sons, of course) focused on anything save Uncle Heshima.

But he was all Nyota wanted to talk about, if she was going to talk.

He'd been her favorite uncle.

Kamau understood that they'd both seen things since then, both been through more of the ups and downs of life, both given up that phenomenon called innocence. But, for some outlandish reason, he thought all of that was supposed to make you larger, bigger. He thought he'd never have to see her like this again.

The room was quiet for a moment. And then came Nyota's paper-thin voice, the words she managed through the tears she tried and failed to hide from him.

"I—I'm _scared_ , Kamau."

Kamau swallowed thickly. He hesitated, but, ultimately, he ended up right beside her on the settee, taking her into his arms and rubbing her shoulders and back while she stained his shirt with salt.

"I'm so scared," she murmured into his chest. "The baby, it's—."

"It's what, Ny?" There was something weird to him, about referring to his niece or nephew as an "it." But he knew that his sister did it more out of circumstance than anything. At dinner three evenings prior, she'd quietly told her family that she was unsure of the child's sex.

"The baby could…" She trailed off. He didn't push her. He just waited. "The baby could be _sick_ , Mau."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember how I told you I was seeing someone from another species?"

"—Don't tell me he's _green_ , Ny."

She laughed, in spite of herself. "He's not green. But he's not human, either. And that could be a problem." She breathed in, shakily. "The baby's father is the only surviving hybrid of his kind. Everyone before him, everyone after him, didn't make it."

"And you're worried that the little munchkin won't make it." Kamau finished. He hugged her tighter, sighed so hard that he saw her head rise and fall in tandem.

Nyota nodded.

"Well, the fact that you're worried just means you'll do everything in your power to make sure that things go as smoothly as possible. And I think I can help with that."

"It's more than just eating healthy, you know?"

"I'm aware. But that's not what I meant."

She perked up, though she said nothing. He continued. "I have a doctor friend who specializes in the hybrid baby thing. If you want, I can get him to take you on as a patient."

"I'd like that."

"You'd better. I told him you're going next Wednesday."

She didn't say anything. He did feel her mouth curl into a sort of smile.

He felt her breathing even out.

"Did Aunt Akeela leave any sweet potato pie behind?" Her voice was still shattered.

"No." Kamau smirked when he heard her inhale sharply.

"But I saved you some. Figured you'd come to your senses eventually."

* * *

 **Translated from: Swahili**

 _Dada- Sister_

 _Kila kitu nzuri- Everything Good_


	3. III

**I love writing this story so much, and I'm SO glad that you guys are enjoying it. You guys are the best readers for putting up with me, honestly. I just have to wait until I have the right scenes to write and such. But I'm feeling good right now (which is like today, haha), so I might start figuring out the rest of what's going to happen in Part I. I am a Spuhura shipper to the fullest, so I'm trying to get to where they're in a scene together as fast as I can (without leaving anything good out), but it's going to take a minute. In the meantime, we'll continue to see them both, separately (sigh).**

 **Since I took so long to post this, you guys get a summary from the previous update!**

 **Summary: Spock is pretty much a kicked puppy without Uhura around, and Leonard's feeling like he took too much on by becoming Uhura's secret keeper because of it; and Uhura's worried about her hybrid baby, but Kamau has a doctor buddy who specializes in these sorts of things and will be caring for Nyota throughout her pregnancy.**

* * *

Nyota hadn't been inside of a normal doctor's office since she'd joined Starfleet. The past few years of her life, she'd seen nothing but Sickbays where the patients all wore some uniform or another. It was refreshing, she supposed, to visit the doctor in her leisure clothes, with no threat of imminent danger forcing her to rush herself and the doctor— _poor Leonard_ —through the whole thing.

Kamau had dropped his sister off not too long ago. It'd been perhaps twenty minutes and, since Nyota's arrival, the nurses had called back three patients who'd been there before her and she'd seen one leave. She wasn't in a hurry of any kind. She hadn't left her parents' home in weeks, and she and the baby were desperately in need of some fresh air. Besides, Kamau was at work—he was a big shot, on the board of some MNC's Kenyan facilities—and he wouldn't be able to come back and get her until the evening rolled around. It wasn't as if Nyota was stranded: her sister, Makena, didn't live too far away and was awaiting her call (she either worked night shifts or from home, Nyota couldn't remember); her father was at his senior fencing lessons, which he'd told her, repeatedly, he would leave for her in a heartbeat; and her mother was sitting by the house phone, she presumed, satisfied with living out her retirement in her living room, knitting clothing for her grandchild.

Things were turning out to be much better than Nyota had anticipated. Even after their initial obligatory niceties, Nyota's family was still as caring and supportive as ever. She'd been keeping up with her languages and had successfully reacquainted herself with her brother and sister on an intimate level. Sometimes, she'd lie awake at night, either from the restlessness or the natural discomforts that came with pregnancy, and she'd pretend, just for a little while, until she fell asleep, that it'd always be like this—her parents and Makena and Kamau would always be a phone call away; she would always be there, in Kenya, and her unborn child along with her, attending all the schools and playing all the games their mother had before them; and she would always be contented with the simplicity of life on earth.

But that was just pretend. Nyota knew that she wouldn't be home for longer than need be. In spite of all the dangers she'd encountered in her line of work, all the baggage she'd left behind, she could never quite fathom herself leaving it for good. She'd had a taste of the world outside of the world, and, while it was nice to take a breather, life on earth paled in comparison to life on a starship.

Even still, she had every intention of making her peaceful time spent on solid ground count. Once she got back out there, there was no telling when she'd come down again.

No, she was in no rush whatsoever to get back to the Enterprise.

The bell above the front door sounded to signal another visitor and, instinctively, Nyota looked up from the new mothers magazine in her lap. In entered what she presumed to be a father and his daughter, the latter of whom couldn't be any older than five. The man had clearly been having a long day (the day had just started), and the girl wasn't helping him to make it any better, it seemed. Nyota loved communications and that included body language. Right then, the seeds of irritation in the father's every gesture were very telling. This alarmed Nyota, at first; and then she realized that something besides the man's young daughter must have irked him into that state, for, contrary to what Nyota had briefly assumed before, the girl was making her father's day better. With every tug on his shirt, every childish giggle, the man's face brightened.

Nyota was well aware of just how rude staring was—she'd been stared at in nearly every possible manner—but she couldn't help herself. The sight warmed her heart and, at the same time, it left a twisted knot in her stomach. It frightened her, more than anything—the reality that that was something her child would possibly never have.

Instinctively, Nyota rested her hand on her stomach. She looked away, then, having come to her senses, but she was too late: the girl had already met her eyes. She poked her father in the side repeatedly and pointed at Nyota's stomach. Her bump had only recently begun protruding from beneath her clothing, and it was not immediately noticeable, unless someone was searching for it. The hand on her stomach would've been a tell-tale sign for anyone, though, she supposed.

Nyota had a bright beam on her face when she looked up again. She'd had every intention of humoring the young girl, but then:

"Ms. Nyota Uhura." It was a red-haired nurse, one she'd seen already. She'd caught Nyota off guard. "Hm?"

"The doctor's ready to see you now."

"Oh." Nyota plastered on a placated smile and stood. "Right."

The nurse moved to open the door further.

Nyota turned and waved to the little girl.

* * *

"What do you think about kids, Spock?"

Jim knew just how problematic he was being, but he felt that he deserved to have a little fun.

Six weeks. For six weeks, Jim's favorite linguist had been frolicking about somewhere on earth, while Jim and the rest of the Enterprise crew were left to deal with the moping and the grumpiness—Vulcans didn't do either of those, of course, but when someone had been as close in proximity to Spock as Jim had for years now, they noted the tell-tale quirks of his brows and the ever-so-slight curling of the corners of his mouth. Plus, he'd virtually erased from memory all of the attributes and features of human culture he'd been trying to, for lack of a better word, assimilate into—he no longer made any effort to establish rapports with his inferiors, nor did he go out of his way to play three-dimensional chess with the guys in one of the recreation rooms once his shift was over. And, worst of all, he'd been a completely blunt prick on the bridge as of late. He'd sent one of Uhura's temporary replacements to her quarters crying after her shift a week ago, just because she'd translated a message of little consequence inaccurately. Jim blamed his own ire with his First Officer for him sending _Bones_ to comfort the woman, of all people—he _still_ hadn't heard the end of that one.

All this to say: Jim was miserable. Spock was the source of said misery. Therefore, Jim deserved to have a little fun at Spock's expense.

At least, that's the conclusion that logic would lead him to.

And here he was, following Spock to the table where they, Bones, McCoy, and all the rest of the usual suspects typically sat in the mess deck, badgering Spock about kids. Jim almost felt bad for him. _Almost._

They'd taken their unassigned-assigned seats across from one another and Jim had eaten a spoonful of his chicken noodle soup—slurped, more like, but it didn't really matter because the mess deck was always deserted this time of night—before Spock finally humored him.

"Children are…people—at times, they can be hyperactive and inquisitive people." Spock paused. "Why do you ask, Captain?" He took a bite of his own meal.

Spock wasn't biting much—not that Jim expected him to, under the circumstances (he had to be exhausted, Vulcan biology considered and all), but it was every bit disappointing as it was reassuring: somewhere in there, behind whatever he had become, he was still the same old Spock.

"I'm just curious. Would you ever have kids?" He masked his mirth with his fist cupping his upturned lips.

Jim could've sworn that Spock stilled for a minute there, but his eyes could've been playing tricks on him, after that day on the bridge.

"No," Spock said, curtly.

That was when alarm bells sounded in Jim's head, and he realized he'd taken a wrong turn into dangerous territory. He cleared his throat and set his glass of water down on the table; he crossed his arms on the tabletop and regarded Spock with unease.

"Come on, Spock. You're telling me that if you could have a kid—a mini-me—with someone _who you really loved_ —."

Spock set his fork down on his plate rather abruptly. Jim supposed that was the Vulcan equivalent of slamming something down in frustration.

"Illogical. That will never happen."

He'd never seen Spock like this.

It was better to leave that can of worms closed, then. At least, until Jim was awake enough to deal with it properly.

Jim had a difficult time obeying anyone, however, including himself, especially when it came to the welfare of his friends. In his defense, he _did_ try a gentler approach this time around.

Lowering his voice, so as to not draw attention from anyone who might be wandering the halls, Jim said, seriously, "You know she's coming back, right, Spock?"

"Captain, this is hardly a discussion I desire to have at the present time," Spock said, firmly.

Jim shook his head disapprovingly. "All right, but you do understand that if this starts to affect your work, it's going to come up again, right?"

"I assure you, Captain, that none of my personal affairs have or will interfere with my work." With that, Spock stood and collected his plate and mug of tea. He'd obviously been waiting to do that for some time. "If you will excuse me, Captain—."

Irritable and fatigued, Jim waved him off. "Sure, sure. See you tomorrow, bright and early."

Spock turned on his heel and walked away as quickly as Vulcanly-humanly possible.

"It's Jim when we're off-duty, you know!" Jim called after him, to no avail.

There was a noodle dangling from his lips.

* * *

The nurse took Nyota's vitals and then left her in one of the examination rooms. Nyota was instructed to remove her clothing, put on the customary cloth gown, and sit on the exam table. Now that she'd done all of that, she was simply waiting for the doctor to arrive.

"Doctor Z's coming. He's right down the hall, wrapping things up with another patient." That was what the nurse had told her.

Nyota lie back on the exam table, her fingers intertwined over her stomach, and stared up at the ceiling. She had no intentions on dozing off, but, if it happened, so be it. There was no telling how long Doctor Z would actually take, depending on what he was dealing with in the other room.

She was not at fault, then, when her eyes had fluttered half-closed by the time Doctor Z appeared.

Well, he'd knocked first, but her reaction time had been off as of late, so she really didn't grasp what was happening until he had a foot in the door.

"Hello?" There was confusion in his voice. A question hidden within a question.

Having regained her senses, Nyota shot into an upright position on the exam table—only to send her insides into a frenzy. She winced and held her stomach. By then, of course, the doctor had noticed her, and he rushed to her side and reached out to help, just to have his hands batted away.

Nyota shook her head. "It's nothing—it's my fault. I forgot that I can't do that anymore." She tried to laugh it off, but the sharp pain was still there.

"Yeah, I wouldn't make any sudden moves like that." Doctor Z had a look of nervous mirth about him; he didn't take his eyes off of Nyota until her pain subsided and she straightened up. He cleared his throat and tucked his clipboard between his forearm and side. "All right, Miss Uhura. We've had quite the eventful start." He extended his hand to her, and she shook it, naturally. "I'm Doctor Galen Z, family physician. I'll be filling in for Doctor Goma for the foreseeable future."

"Doctor Goma?" Nyota frowned and let her hand sink into her lap. "My brother, Kamau Uhura, referred me to you specifically. He told me he set up this appointment with you—."

The faintest of smiles graced Doctor Z's lips, and he held up his hand to quiet her. His blue eyes glittered with amusement when he spoke. "Relax. Kamau did set this up; he told me everything I needed to know. And, while I'm honored to be helping you through this interspecies pregnancy, you're going to need an obstetrician at some point. That's where Doctor Goma comes in."

"Oh. Okay." Nyota's smile was one of embarrassment. "So, you _are_ really an expert in this, then? The interspecies pregnancy thing?" She trusted Kamau with her life, but there were certain areas where he wasn't the best authority.

"I would hope so. I mean, I've been behind the scenes of plenty a pregnancy, and I practically own the place." He looked over her chart again, flipping through the pages as he went.

She laughed because she thought it'd been a joke. The man was rather young to be a seasoned physician—he couldn't be any older than she was. He was a lean and healthy man, with blonde hair and freckled skin. He was pale, but he looked green, metaphorically speaking. There was a very slim chance that he owned an entire practice.

Doctor Z arched his brows. "Something funny, Miss Uhura?"

Her laughter quickly subsided. She regarded him with bemusement. "That was a joke, right? You were joking."

Either because he liked seeing her squirm or he was genuinely interested in her reasoning, Doctor Z stared at her and crossed his arms in front of him, the clipboard held safely in his grip. "Tell me, why would I be joking?"

"Your name's not on the door."

The man sighed, clearly annoyed, though perhaps not entirely at his patient. No, his ire seemed to be built up, the product of years of enduring…something. "The names are the door are, if I remember correctly, Eoife, Claufin, and Zulu." She recited them in perfect order, her pronunciation correct and all. "And your name is—."

"Doctor Zhaynaasse, yes." He trailed her gaze to the nametag he'd somewhat purposely forgotten to remove, as he did for all of his other patients. He was beginning to regret that decision. "Everyone knows me as Zulu, though."

"Why?"

"Because Zhaynaasse is a long name," he said, dryly, with an equally dry and forced smile. He turned his attention back to the clipboard, but Nyota had a feeling he'd done it for no particularly good reason, this time.

"That's not a reason," Nyota pushed. She was being a nuisance, she knew—everything good-natured told her to leave it alone and let the doctor go on with the appointment, but, truthfully, she was itching for something intriguing, some sort of conflict.

"All right, well, _if you must know_ , Miss Uhura, it was a purely business decision. People around here tend to dislike and distrust things from other species. But I'll save my breath because I think you'd know something about that yourself, now, wouldn't you?"

There was a sharp intake of breath on Nyota's part, but nothing more.

The doctor shut his eyes and regained his senses. Then, he spoke again, his tone more cautious this time around. "I'm sorry, Miss Uhura. There's no excuse for that, but it's, uh…it's been a long day. And I've been dealing with some, uh, people."

Nyota didn't say anything at first. She just stared at him. Then, she shook her head. "I get it. Let's just forget that ever happened."

Doctor Z breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the chart. "Okay, Miss Uhura, so your vitals checked out…"

He could pretend to forget it, of course, but she couldn't. Nyota's head was filled with a million questions, a million questions she would never ask him. What species did he belong to, exactly? She wouldn't have been able to tell that he wasn't human, not from his speech, or his mannerisms, or even his appearance. The name, "Zhaynaasse," was definitely one she'd heard before, but it'd been a long while since then. It had belonged to an Orion; the doctor, however, was certainly not Orion.

Nyota resolved to store that information for later investigation—pathetically enough, these were the sorts of puzzles she solved nowadays. How the mighty had fallen, gracefully.

* * *

She was about three weeks overdue for her first prenatal visit, but Doctor Z assured her that it was fine, as long as she made it a point to visit him in proper intervals from now on. Her hemoglobin levels were up to par, and she was clear of any diseases that might harm the baby. She was about 11 weeks pregnant, but the doctor warned her that, seeing as her child was half-Vulcan, she had another, possibly increasingly gruelling, 49 weeks to go. He scheduled her next appointment and first ultrasound for three weeks from then.

"We should be able to tell whether you're having a girl or a boy by then. Definitely by your second ultrasound," Doctor Z announced, happily. After those first moments of pure awkwardness, they'd both gotten more comfortable, grew more relaxed, and it showed in everything from the loosening up of their shoulders to the ease of their speech.

Perhaps Kamau had known what he was doing when he'd recommended Doctor Z to her.

"I'd say it's time to start narrowing down that list of names," Doctor Z continued.

Nyota stilled, her expression a mixture of disbelief and shock.

She didn't have to say anything.

"You mean to tell me you haven't thought of baby names yet, Miss Uhura? That's basic First-Time Mother Quirks 101," he chided, humorously.

Nyota flushed crimson. She was flustered; she was ashamed. It wasn't that big of a deal, honestly, but it said a hell of a lot about where her mind was at this stage in her pregnancy. "I, uh…" She trailed off, almost shyly; even Doctor Z, who'd known her for barely an hour, knew that sheepishness was not apart of her character. "Honestly, I hadn't really thought that far. Hybrids run a very high risk during pregnancy and…"

The implication was left there, suspended in the air between them. She wouldn't say it, but Doctor Z heard her loud and clear.

"Look at me, Miss Uhura," he said, softly, for she'd averted her gaze. She did, albeit hesitantly. There was apprehension clouding her visage. Doctor Z reached out and placed a soothing hand over hers. "Listen, I don't say this very often, but this one's going to make it. Trust me."

There was no way he could be sure of that, Nyota knew, but she found a strange sense of comfort from his sincerity. She wanted to believe him, so very badly; yet, logic wouldn't let her (she wondered who she should thank for _that_ one). Still, it felt nice to sit there and suspend all disbelief.

"All right, Doc." She smiled, a real smile.

He squeezed her hand, then let it go. "Smart woman. I need you to leave here and start a list of names, of goals, of sports, of colleges—everything you could possibly want for this kid. The next time I see you, I want a comprehensive play-by-play sort of plan that he or she will most definitely not follow, even though you're going to spend the next 12 months perfecting it.

"Doctor's orders."


	4. IIII

**pretends I've been here the entire time**

* * *

If it was a boy, she _could_ just name him after his father.

Of course, there was the pressure that went along with having such a namesake, but his genetic makeup would bring about plenty expectations, regardless.

Then again, she didn't want him or anyone else to think that she hadn't tried _at all_. "Jr."—she was more creative than that.

And what if she was having a girl?

Nyota had always liked the name Aziza, so much so that she'd wanted it for herself when she was a child, going so far as to write it on a nametag and wear it to school for an entire school year.

She could also name her after a family member: her late great-grandmother, Dofi; her grandmother, M'Umbha (or her late grandmother, Amanda); or she could dig into her arsenal of worldly knowledge and give her a foreign name, like Guiliana, as if she hailed from Italy, or Gege, as if she were Orion.

There were so many names that fit her mental image of the child she was carrying perfectly; she had no clue how her mother had decided on the perfect names for each of _her_ children.

Nyota: Swahili, meaning "star"—Nyota liked to think that she was bright—metaphorically speaking, of course—considering her academic record, the highlight of which occurred when she was assigned to the U.S.S. Enterprise upon her graduation from Starfleet Academy; and, obviously, it was not lost on her that, as a Starfleet officer, she frequented the stars.

Makena: Kikuyu, meaning "happy one"—This was more or else self-explanatory. Makena was always smiling, always finding the good in everybody, always positive and optimistic. Nyota had rarely, if ever, seen her divert from character.

Then, there was Kamau—Eastern African, meaning "silent warrior." Indeed, Kamau had never been outspoken or boisterous, as many of his friends were, but he had always been strong, mentally and physically. He'd protected his sisters for most of their lives, with more silencing glances than the baring of his fists.

Nyota sighed.

Maybe she wasn't thinking as meaningfully as she could. But at least she was _thinking_ about it, finally.

She let herself smile the faintest of smiles at that, and she adjusted her head on the cushioned headrest of the exam table.

The sonographer Galen had assigned to her—a meek little woman named Doctor Bridges—was one of the quietest people Nyota had ever come across. Dr. Bridges had entered the exam room with an introduction that was barely above a whisper and promptly set to work readying the ultrasound machine and gathering her materials. Her back had been turned to Nyota all throughout, and she hadn't attempted the casual small talk that most physicians engaged in—that even included Leonard, if Nyota counted his complaints about the average irritating patient's complaints and his teasing everyone else.

For maybe five minutes, then, Nyota and Dr. Bridges sat in what one would call a companionable silence, minus so much of the companionship. Nyota took it upon herself to fill it by working on Dr. Z's homework; she wouldn't see him again for another two weeks or so, but she wasn't one to wait until the last minute to start on any assignment.

When Dr. Bridges was all set, she snapped on a pair of gloves and rolled her chair closer to Nyota's side.

"Are you experiencing any pains or discomfort, Miss Uhura?"

Nyota got to look at the doctor—really look at her—for the first time. She had stringy red hair that was long enough to touch her back, even in the ponytail she'd messily thrown it in by the sink. She had cool, blue eyes, and tiny red lips that didn't curl into anything noteworthy very often. She was short, too, to the point where her feet seemed to float above the ground in her sitting position.

All things considered, however, Dr. Bridges certainly was no amateur. Not once while in her care did Nyota express any worry outside the norm for a new mother.

"Nope," Nyota answered, decidedly. "Everything's fine here."

Dr. Bridges merely nodded at this, and then, rather unceremoniously, she spread a warm gel onto Nyota's stomach. She moved away for a moment, and, when she scooted back to the bedside, there was a transducer in her hand. She rubbed it over Nyota's belly, gently, in a manner that directly contrasted the brusque nature of her earlier actions.

Instinctively, Nyota turned her head to look at the television monitor suspended above the ultrasound machine. There was an image, but she couldn't make out much in it, save for the light that illuminated a cylinder-shaped portion of the picture, like a UFO beaming down on the earth from overhead.

Nyota squinted and strained, but still, nothing.

Dr. Bridges made a noise, low in her throat, and Nyota glanced over at her, a mixture of question and concern painting her expression.

Oddly enough, the doctor was smiling—it was tight-lipped and inexperienced, and, really, it could be taken as a smirk, too, but it was something besides a blank face.

"Can't find it?" Dr. Bridges sounded amused, and Nyota didn't know whether to feel sheepish or a defensive.

In the end, she settled on the former. With an air of modesty at her own ignorance, Nyota shook her head. "Not to save my life."

Dr. Bridges nodded and moved the transducer around a bit more. A couple of seconds passed. Finally, the doctor sighed—except it was more of a dreamy sigh than one of exhaustion or irritation—and said, "Look."

Nyota looked at the screen again, and what she saw this time around made her breath catch in her throat.

He—or she—was perhaps the strangest little creature she'd ever seen, and she'd seen plenty. But he wasn't weird-looking in the sense that he scared her, or even worried her. It was the way that she felt when she watched the tiny figure on the screen—when she couldn't _stop_ watching him, in black and white, and fuzzy and all. She knew she'd protect him from anyone and anything.

"He's just the most beautiful little thing," Nyota said, in a breathless whisper.

"It was the same way for me," Dr. Bridges admitted, in an uncharacteristically warm voice.

"That feeling doesn't go away, you know. It just keeps growing."

* * *

Doctor Z was with a patient when Nyota finished, so she didn't get a chance to drop by and see him. She walked right out of the door, her and her sonogram, and it was burning a hole in her hand—had been since Dr. Bridges put it there.

She needed to _show_ someone.

Yes, she'd show her parents, and Makena, and Kamau. But that wasn't enough to satisfy the part of her that housed her humanity, her morality, her impending motherhood.

She needed _him_ to see it, she realized, and she removed her PADD from her purse, snapped a photograph of the sonogram, and sent it off. She captioned it, but she hadn't said much. And she felt no need to: she'd done more than enough.

* * *

Bones' PADD was always buzzing like crazy—it came with the territory—so, naturally, he was always ignoring it until he had some idle time.

Today, like most days, that idle time had come at the very end of the night, after he'd finally taken a much-needed, well-deserved shower and changed out of his uniform. He settled onto his sofa, a cup of replicator joe in hand, and started filtering through his messages: some were kept, a few of those were flagged, but most of them were deleted. Once he hit the 12:00 mark on the timestamps, he usually shut his PADD off and went to bed. But he was using up his space with all of those unopened messages, and, sooner or later, that would come back to bite him in the ass, and he figured now was as good a time as any to take care of it, because when would he ever not be tired?

Most of them were either boring, redundant, irritating, or some combination of the aforementioned, so he deleted them rather indiscriminately.

Until a particular name caught his eye: **Nyota Uhura**.

It'd been a few weeks since he'd discussed her extended leave with Spock, and even longer since he'd spoken to or seen her. He missed Nyota dearly; she was one of the only other officers on the ship who had yet to give him a severe migraine. Still, it was ten times easier to keep his guilt at bay and continue misleading Spock when she didn't communicate with him often. Or at all.

Against his better judgement, Bones opened the message. There was a photograph attached. When he opened it, he was a bit taken back. He'd known she was pregnant beforehand, but this… This made it all the more real. And that meant that him keeping it from Spock was all the more real.

 _Fifteen weeks! Should know gender by next meeting._

 _Love, Uhura_

While he was strangely overjoyed for the Lieutenant, something in Bones dearly hoped that she wouldn't do this kind of thing on a regular basis.

He was afraid that Vulcans could smell a lying son-of-a-gun five light years away.


End file.
